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ONNALINDA 


IVko She Is, and 


What is Said of Her. 





Who will believe my verse in times to come 
If it were filled with your most high deserts.” 

Shakspeark. 


Price lo Cents. 










'.V'*'/* ■"' •■ '•' ‘Vi t’ ' ■- ^ H 



i 


Copyright 1889, by The Reprint Company. 



If I could write the beauty of your eyes, 

And in fresh numbers number all your graces, 

The age to come would say, this poet lies— 

Such heavenly touches ne’er touched earthly faces. 

Shakspeare 


ONNALINDA. 


CHAPTER I. 

Alone she stood, a maiden sweet, 

Within the woodland’s deepening shade; 
One beam of sunset through the glade 
Glimmered in gold about her feet. 

Musing, she lingered in covert there 
Far from the clamour of camp’s alarms ; 
Above her a beech flung out his arms 
As if to shield a form so fair. 

A winsome girl of native grace 
And moulded form the comeliest; 

Scarce two-and-twenty Junes had kiss’d 
With breath of rose her charming face— 
Brunette, with crimson tinged and blent 
As if ’neath Saxon face there glowed 
The warm maroon of Indian blood 
And stirred a doubt of her descent— 



4 


ONNALINDA. 


A doubt that still intenser grew 
With her rich garb of Tyrian hue. 

Her queenly grace and soft attire 
Bespoke a line from noble sire. 

Around her bodice trimly laced 
Fell glossy falls of raven hair, 

Half-veiling, half-revealing there 
The zone that clasped her lissome waist. 

One hand to ear, to catch alarm, 

Showed jewelled wrist and rounded arm. 

In purple folds her kirtle fell— 

The rippling hem just kissed her feet, 

In shoon of chamois fitted neat 
As glove and palm of courtly belle ; 

Beneath her instep, proud and high, 

A flower would bloom, a bee would fly. 
The charms of youth and beauty met 
In Onnalinda —sweet brunette ! 

Deep in her dark eyes’ lustrous glance 
Glistened the star of bright romance. 

She listened . . . Silent all the wood 
Save plaintive owl, in distant glade, 

Whose croon, thro’ echoing forest, made 
More solemn still the solitude. 

Then to herself the maiden spoke— 

Still gazing pensive on the ground 
As if perplexed with thoughts profound— 
And murmuring, thus the silence broke : 


ONNALINDA, 


5 


Last night—what did he mean to say? 

My hand in his he tremulous prest ; 

I heard a throbbing within his breast : 
Good-bye ! ’ he faltered, and turned away,— 

But in his voice and in his eye 

Was something more than that ‘ Good-bye/ 

The white moon shone on his earnest face 
As he held my hand, and silent stood. 

Do men woo thus in a dolesome mood ? 

Then that solemn owl may woo with grace ! 

This man—can he be my father’s foe 
And lover of mine ? To-night I’ll know. 

To-night when the moon shines full in his face 
I’ll there read clear each thought of his heart; 
He shall not know, as I stand apart, 

How keen my glance each line shall trace. 

Ah, well, my heart! do I love this man— 

So soon ? Perchance I do—or can ! ” 

She paused . . . Around she gazed, and then. 
Musing, she spoke to herself again : 

What if my chieftain-sire should know— 

Should know I parley with foe of his ! 

Well, what if I foil his enemies 
With weapon keener then blade or bow ? 
Perchance this Saxon loves me well . . . 

Sink low, O sun !—to-night will tell.” 


6 


ONNALINDA. 


The sun behind the glimmering hill 
His amber glances slow withdrew, 

And twilight shadows a glamour threw 
Around the woodlands soft and still. 

A crackling sound beyond the glade 
Reached Onnalinda’s vigilant ear ; 

Then startled owl flew by anear, 

Flapping across the forest shade. 

Quicker her heart beat at each sound— 

Silence and darkness gathering round. 

Sudden she turned. A rustling tread 

She heard approach thro’ the darkling wood. 
Flushed to the ear, alert she stood 
Twixt hope and fear disquieted. 

A manly form with cap of blue 
Approached. His epauletted coat 
Bright-buttoned trimly to his throat, 

Of rank and fame was symbol true. 

But more his eye and bearing told 
Than any sign symbolic could— 
(Escutcheons mark the noble blood 
But mien and port the noble souled ;) 

Heroic calmness in his face 
Showed valour ’neath a gentle grace. 

“ Brief be our words to-night,”—he said 
As her warm hand in his he drew ; 

His words foreboding o’er her threw 
Shadows of some impending dread. 




ONNALINDA. 


7 


“Though swift I come, through forest dun, 
No harm betides thee, gentle one. 

And yet, if rumour tricks me not. 

Alert with stratagem and plot 
The midnight hour shall be. 

My wary scout from yonder hill 
Saw hurried signals that reveal 
Some tumult rife that bodes of ill— 

Some pending strategy.” 

• 

“ Such signals ”—Onnalinda said— 

“ May often times foreshadow ill. 

But oft, to try their speed and skill, 
’Mong warriors false alarms are spread, 
As fawn is bred to flee from harm 
When stamps the doe a false alarm— 
Thus wary is the warrior bred. 

My clan the Saxon’s art would meet 
With weasel’s eye and foxes’ feet.” 


“ One fear alone the bravest feel 
Keener ”—said he—“ than lance of steel: 
What if deep plots are lurking laid 
To tangle the feet in ambuscade ! 

We smile at such—at snare or threat— 

But quail ’neath glance of one brunette ! 

-But say, when from the camp you came 

Where were the warriors ? ” 

“ Hunting game.” 

■“ And of those warriors is tnere none 
Watching your footsteps? ” 

“ There is one.” 



8 


ONNALINDA. 


“ One—who is he ? ” 

“ A warrior, brave^. 
But silent as a forest grave.” 


“ And therefore to be feared ?”—asked he. 

“ I know not ”—crimsoning, said she. 

And smiled as if her words revealed 
But inkling of the thoughts concealed. 

Silent he stood, with downcast eyes; 

A sudden doubt his heart oppressed. 
Like one who sees, low in the west. 

Dark clouds that threaten the sunny skies.. 
“ I know not,”—in her words a doubt— 

A dim surmise and mystery— 

That roused the phantom jealousy, 

A shadow love is never without. 

He feared to ask her, frank and fair. 

Of him who stirred his jealousy— 
Ashamed to ask : “ A lover, he ? ”— 

He hunted here, he angled there. 


HE. 

Perchance this warrior’s silent tongue 
Tattled and prattled gay young f 

ONNALINDA. 

Who talks the least I call him wise— 
Words are but dust thrown in the eyes. 



ONNALINDA. 


9 


HE. 

Young Indian warrior we are told 
Makes hasty wooing, brief and bold ? 

ONNALINDA. 

Nimble his pace in love or chase, 

And both his eyes are in his face. 

HE. 

I see . . . you think when Saxons woo 
They feign one thing and another do ? 

ONNALINDA. 

Has he two tongues ? So said my mother : 
He WOOS one maid and wins another. 


HE. 

Your ‘ mother’ said ?—How could she know? 
ONNALINDA. 

Not forest-born was she—no, no ; 

Her eye was blue, her brow was snow. 

HE. 

Then a lovely woodland nymph was she,— 
Not forest-born ? 

ONNALINDA. 

From o’er the sea, 

Where blooming hedge-rows carolled sweet, 
And heather blossomed ’neath her feet. 

At quiet eve she oft would tell 
Of scenes enchanting, and would dwell 
With trembling lip, and tenderly. 

On home beloved, beyond the sea. 


lO 


ONNALINDA. 


Of twilight porch with ivy pent, 

Of castle wall and battlement .... 

-You wonder? Sir, I pardon you— 

The tale is strange. 

HE. 

I’d swear ’tis true! 

A myth for truth I would admit 
When lips so sweet have uttered it ! 

ONNALINDA. 

Is it so strange a woodland girl 
Should claim a grandsire in an earl ? 

-But listen . . . Hark 1—Do you not hear 

Sounds of alarm—of peril near ? 


And as she spoke, a glance she sent 
Oblique across the forest glade. 

And turned an ear as if intent 
On distant sound from ambuscade. 

One moment musing, mute stood he— 

Like baffled general in assault 
When fortress moat compels a halt 
To compass the emergency— 

When—hark 1 again—that sound renew’d 
Louder, and echoing through the wood. 

“ Dear one! I go,”—he anxious said. 

“ On wings how fleet has evening fled ! 

Once more I ask that pledge so dear: 
To-morrow eve to meet me here ? ” 







ONNALINDA. 


II 


“ If stars be bright ; if woods be still; 

If signals no alarm reveal ; 

If nought doth wake the jealous eye— 
To-morrow night,”—was her reply. 

Her hand upon his lips he pressed 

Tenderly, saying, “O sweet good-night! ” 
They parted. Dim the stars’ pale light. 
His heart beat with a strange unrest. 
Murmuring: “ Can such bliss be mine ? 

Or is she hidden in dark design ?”.... 
Meek but adroit—ah ! who can tell 
Beauty’s intent inscrutable ! 


The fascinating Princess Onnalinda whose achievements 
and whose bewitching grace and beauty turned even her 
enemies into impassioned suitors and rivals, is presented to 
us in this opening chapter of her story. From this point 
begins the real action of the poem—its stirring incidents so 
closely interwoven that to cut further extracts would be (as 
an English critic observes) “ only to mutilate, like cutting 
specimens from a broad design.” Besides the heroine, the 
following characters are involved : 

Kawanute, the chieftain-father of the Princess Onnalinda, 
whose domains were invaded by the French under the Mar¬ 
quis Denonville. 

Eben Stark, the chivalrous Captain who had heedlessly 
joined the invaders, but, captivated at first sight by the charms 
of the Princess, became her devoted adorer and defender. 

Glinting Star, the dark-eyed maiden whose keenness of de¬ 
tection was of grave consequence to the leading characters. 

Ronald Kent, comrade of Captain Stark, and marksman of 
marvelous aim—in love with Glinting Star. 

Denonville’s Courier, a punctilious Frenchman. Donald, 
a canny Scotchman; and Oonak, the implacable rival of 
Captain Stark. 

With these, and their rivalries, we are impulsively drawn 
through this forest romance by the irresistible charms of the 
heroine and her brilliant achievements. 



12 


ONNALINDA. 


We present the opening chapter of “ Onnalinda” as show¬ 
ing, somewhat, the concise and picturesque style of this 
epic story; the lines, however, convey little of its anima¬ 
tion, for, as the plot develops, the graphic vividness inten¬ 
sifies until the words seem to glow with poetic fire. 

In these times no prudent person will bargain for any 
commodity without first testing it; and, to this rtile, books 
sJioidd form no exception. To that end, and for that purpose 
only, we present in this brochure, an opportunity for that 
test, together with opinions from sources that are above the 
reach of solicitation. Among these, eminent in society and 
literature, whose opinions are of special import, we shall 
here specially mention the Rt. Hon. John Bright and the 
Earl of Lytton. Photo copies of their autograph letters re¬ 
lating to “Onnalinda ” are, by permission, included in the 
book. From extracts given herewith it will be seen that 
Mr. Bright signalizes the Life and Beauty of' Onnalinda,' 
and Lord Lytton (himself the most distinguished of poetic 
romancers) emphasizes the captivating power of the story 
—holding the attention alert, through its two hundred and 
thirty pages, to the end : 

“I read ‘Onnalinda’ with attention and pleasure, and without stopping 
till I had finished it. The story is told with great animation of movement and 
picturesqueness of description.”— Earl OF Lytton. 

“I read ‘ Onnalinda ’ with great interest and pleasure; there is Life and 
Beauty in it which I have much enjoyed.”— John Bright. 

“The reader is lured onward through this forest romance as if led by the 
hand of the charming Onnalinda herself.”— Charles Mackay. 

“ ‘ Onnalinda ’ sustains its interest from first to last. Strange to say, the 
tale is the pleasanter reading for being in metre, and the reader is beguiled by 
the silvery ring of the verse.” —Westminster Review, No, CXXXI. 

“ Mr. McNaughton tells his story with animation, and weaves the loves of 
the charming Onnalinda and her English lover into a pleasing poem.” —London 
Morning Post, No. jj, Ji6. 

“ ‘ Onnalinda’ is a strikingly beautiful romance. The story is told in a 
very fascinating manner, and with a vivacity that never fails from the first page 
to the last.” —London Christian World, No. j, ^8i. 

“ One is filled with a fuller sense of simple delight and gratitude by such a 
charming poem as ‘ ONNALINDA.’ We have not read a poetic romance for 
many a day and year which takes our fancy more completely.” —London LMerary 
World, No. 824. 


“ Nothing can supply the place of books. No matter 
how poor l am, if learned men and poets will enter and 
take up their abode under my roof/’ 

— Channing. 


ONNALINDA. 

Dr. Charles Mackay, the poet and critic, in the Fifeshire Journal. 

“The narrative and romantic verse with which Sir Walter Scott 
threw a glamour round the scenery and history of the Scottish 
Highlands has been used with striking effect by Mr. J. H. McNaugh- 
ton in his romance of “ Onnalinda ” (London: Kegan Paul, Trench & 
Co.). The birch and the heather and the bracken of Scotland have 
given place to the pathless forests of North America; the moors 
and the mountains of our little country have yielded to the broad 
prairies and the mighty rivers of the New World. But the spirit 
which runs through “Onnalinda” is identical with that which per¬ 
vades “ The Lady of the Lake.” There are the same love of nature 
in all its forms and under all its aspects, the same chivalric feelings, 
the same kindly views of life. Indeed, Sir Walter himself might 
almost have written “ Onnalinda.” Mr. McNaughton has not, per¬ 
haps, the wonderful power of description, which characterized so 
notably all that Scott wrote ; but as a narrator he is little behind 
the great wizard. Then, again, there is something in his writing 
which even Scott could not have laid claim to ; for through all his 
romance Mr. McNaughton shows that there is in him more of the 
true poetic soul than there was in the author of ‘ Marmion,’ with all 
the .latter’s felicity of expression and power of description and of 
narration. Every now and then comes a touch, a suggestion, some¬ 
times just the suspicion of a thought, which shows us that apart 
altogether from his subject or his characters, Mr. McNaughton is a 
poet indeed. 

It IS, however, as a narrative, that we have most praise for ‘ Onna¬ 
linda.' The author unfolds his story with consummate skill, and with 
an increasing interest. It is quite impossible not to feel interested, 
and sometimes more than interested, in the loves of Onnalinda and 


“ . . , . The mixture of fact and fiction in ‘ Onnalinda ’ is skillfully managed ; the wild 
beauty of the locality is tellingly delineated ; and the picturesque appearance and chivalrous 
characteristics of the dramatispersonce are charmingly described .”—The Whitehall (London) 
Review. 



4 


ONNALINDA, 


her gallant Captain, in the romantic story of Ronald Kent, and in 
the constancy of Glinting Star. And then the freshness of the 
theme! These characters, mark, are not the over-drawn beings 
of sentiment and high-flown gibberish which make Fenimore 
Cooper’s novel so tiresome ; neither are they the degraded savages 
of the Red Man’s latter-day detractors. They are noble and honour¬ 
able ; they are brave and true; they are simple, certainly, and their 
guile is not the guile of a ‘civilized’ man; they love well and they 
hate honestly. Kawanute, the author tells us, is no over-drawn or 
fancy picture ; and, if that be true, then the cause of the Red Man 
is a cause well worth fighting. As Mr. Bright, in a letter to the au¬ 
thor, says,—‘ You have put down the cruelties practiced on the 
negro. Is it not possible for the friends of the negro to raise their 
voice in defense of the Red Man.? You have seized their land—you 
occupy almost all their country—can you not give them the secur¬ 
ity your laws give your white millions.? If the good men and 
women of the states make an effort for this benevolent purpose, I 
think it would not fail.’ Apart altogether from the excellence of 
his poem, Mr. McNaughton has done good work in defense of the 
Red Man’s privileges. 

But to the poem. The story is romantic to a degree, and so in¬ 
trinsically poetical are the subjects and the characters dealt with 
that even if it w’ere less skillfully treated it could not fail to appeal to 
the interest of its readers ; Mr. McNaughton’s treatment, however. 
As as poetical as his subject; and the romance of Onnalinda, as it is 
in the poem before us, is one to read and read again. Long quota¬ 
tions from a work such as this is would be somewhat out of place; 
the book, to be thoroughly enjoyed, must be read in its entirety. 

.We quote the following extracts as showing something of 

the style of this author; but of a work in which the incidents are 
so closely interwoven, to cut into the main fabric of the plot is only 
to mutilate, like snipping specimens from a broad design in mosaics : 

“I taught her all our books could teach,— 

Bright pupil she !—she learned so well 
She knew the sweetest part of speech 
And read my heart ere she could spell! 

And as she grew in years and lore 
I taught her what the sages writ; 

She learned all that and something more. 

Then she taught what they omit— 

And much that never was told in print 
Shone from her dark eyes’ tender glint! ” 





ONNALINDA. 


15 


I’ve seen the gay cachuca whirls 
Of fairy-footed Zian girls, 

And rose-lipt nymph of Gulistan 
In slumber feigned on soft divan ; 

But all, ay, all from memory fade 
Save her—that dear Algonquin maid ! ” 


“ As wounded starling to its nest 
Flutters with sorrow in its breast. 

With fluttering heart I homeward drew. 
Touched with the sorrow of ’ Adieu ! ’ ” 


“ Apart she stood ; 

Her white arm round a moonlit tree 
Glistened with jewelled brilliancy. 

And was it thus by maiden’s art 
The moonlight fell upon his face 
While ’gainst that light she stood apart, 
Outlined, a rounded form of grace ? ” 


“ If there’s one man for heav’n unfit 
Verily ’tis the hypocrite !— 

Beware of him when he is mute, 
’Tis silence of the panther’s foot!” 


“Plucked from the ground at his palfrey’s feet 
And held on a mightier arm again, 

Swift was she borne on palfrey fleet 
As the hetman’s steed of the wild Ukraine. 
O’er the distant hill against the skies 
She vanished in mist of my streaming eyes.” 


“ Is merit a mark—a badge of race ? 
Is honor a tint—a tinge of face ? ” 


“ Beware—O Eben !—woman’s eyes 
Still lure a thousand Antonies, 
And half mankind is still beset 
With Cleopatras of brunette !” 


“ A woodland lass— 

Light as gazelle, and step as neat; 
Behind her fairy-skipping feet 
Enamored rose the supple grass. 

A charm thatTit her modest glance 
Lay mirrored in her lustrous eye— 
A chaste, a gentle sorcery 
Kindled, illumined by romance.” 









“ A book makes friends. ’T Is the tie between men to 
have been delighted with the same book ; and when, 
unexpectedly, one finds a stranger enjoying the rare 
poet or thinker who is dear to his own solitude, it is like 
finding a brother.”— Emerson. ^ 

ONNALINDA. 

From the London Inquirer^ No. 

A more romantic subject than this, of the loves and adventures 
of Onnalinda, could hardly have been found : and very skillfully 
has the subject been treated by Mr. McNaughton. The poem is full 
of graceful description, told in such melodious verse, and with such 
freshness and vigour, that the reader is thoroughly interested from 
beginning to end of the book. Onnalinda is a charming heroine; 
with the simple graces of a forest belle and the unerring instinct in 
reading character and detecting treachery, she combines clearness 

of judgment with swiftness of decision.One of the stirring 

scenes in the book is that where, just as the hostile bands of the 
Iroquois and English are on the point of fighting, Onnalinda inter¬ 
venes : 

“ Upgazing as if to her were sent 
A message from the firmament— 

Like herald of heaven august she stands 
With palms outspread ’gainst friends and foes— 

One palm to these, one palm to those— 

A barrier 'twixt the hostile bands,”— 

and by her tact brings about a truce between her father and her 

lover.There is considerable humour in the description of some 

of the minor characters—the French courier, for instance.Al¬ 

together it is some time since we have read a more graceful and 
interesting poem.” 

“ The meadow shone in velvet green. 

With lace of daisies’ silver sheen 

Brooched with the daffodils of gold— 

What ’neath heav’n’s azure can compare 
With that bright emerald robe so fair 

That God's own hand hath here unrolled! ” 

— Oufialinda, p. 187. 


“ . . . . Mr. McNaughton’s spirited appeal on behalf of the forest clans is one in which 
every right-thinking person will heartily sympathize. . . . The story is told with spirit and 
vigour, and the versification has force and power .”—The Scottish Review. 









‘‘ A little peaceful home bounds all my wants and 
wishes ; add to this my book and friencl, and this is 
happiness .—Fruncesco di Rioja. 


ONNALINDA. 

Extract from review in the London Literary World., No. S24. 

It is not surprising that certain distinguished men—who have ap¬ 
parently had an opportunity of reading the American edition of 
Onnalinda —should have expressed very high opinions concerning 
the book. Lord Lytton read it “ with attention and pleasure ” and 
without stopping till he had finished it; and Mr. Bright speaks 
with much interest of the poem. Lord Lytton well describes the 
poet’s success when he writes to him, “You have told the story 
with great animation of movement and picturesqueness of descrip¬ 
tion,” It is an old-time poetical romance of Red Indian life full of 
exciting and agreeable interest. Our feeling has been precisely 
that which Lord Lytton has expressed, and we may also add that 
we did not lay the poem aside until we had read it. The movement 
certainly reminded us of Sir Walter Scott, and the progressive 
nature of the poem is an important element in the enjoyment. One 
has not to wait long and wearily for the development of the story; 
and there is no mystery in it. There is not the carefully and deli¬ 
cately worked-out perfection which one gets in Tennyson, but we 
do not fail to receive a strong impression of the natural, easy, un¬ 
affected, unlaboured grace, beauty and skill which the author pos¬ 
sesses. We have not read a poetical romance of its aim and length 
for many a day and year, which takes our fancy more completely. 
The “ mosaic ” poems often fix us with a bewildered and silentadmi- 
ration of their marvelous skill; but, perhaps, upon the whole, one 
is filled with a fuller sense of simple delight and gratitude, by such 
a charming poem as “ Onnalinda.'' 

We meet with the principal heroine of the romance in its opening 

“ . . , . The adventures of these two [Onnalinda and Eben Stark] together with the 
story of Ronald Kent and ‘ Glinting Star,’ are most romantic in themselves, and to these nat¬ 
ural advantages the author has added the charm of rhyme and rhythm, constantly varied, and 
therefore free from monotony ; there is not a tedious passage in the whole work. The descrip¬ 
tions of scenery are vivid, and the indications of character true and distinct. Altogether the 
.'.awif. is a treat .’’—Liverpool Albion. 




i8 


ONNALINDA. 


pages. The author prefixes a very happy three-lines from the 
“ Faerie Queene ” as the motto of the first part of the poem : 

“ She by descent from royal lineage came 
Of ancient kings and queens, that had of yore 
Their sceptre stretched from East to Western shore.” 

The Indian maiden first appears in the forest, alone, thinking of, 
and yearning to see that night, as she saw on the previous one, an 
English Captain Stark, whom she had learned to love. We cannot 
better introduce our poet than with the following presentation of 
the Princess Onnalinda : [Here follow three colu77ins of extracts a7id 
co77i77ic7its—the revzew e7iding thus :\ We will not tell the reader how 
the course of true love ran in this instance. For such information 
he must turn to the poem, which we promise him will afford more 
delight than our extracts. 

“ One eve a groom, officious, told 
Of what his lurking eye espied : 

She walks clandestine in the wold, 

A simple yeoman by her side, 

—Up to his brows in reddening ire 
Arose the feudal blood of sire ; ^ 

‘ Daughter,’ he called.‘And can it be— 

A wolf among the bleating flocks.^ 

Do pheasants covey with a fox } ’ 

With taunting trope demanded he. 

A gleam from out his darkling eye 
Presaged the storm now drawing nigh. 

.... But love, true love, when storms assail 
Is like the birdling in the gale. 

It closer, warmer folds its wings. 

And to the limb it firmer clings ! ” 

07 t 7 ialmda, p. 89. 


“ Like dazzling glance from wing of dove 
Is bright Romance to Life and Love ! ” 


“ What grace of movement and of mien ! 

As queen upon her throne of state, 

She calmly on her palfrey sate 
And tranquil viewed the troubled scene— 
Her glinting plumelet bowed and swayed 
While charger pranced in proud parade.” 


“ Though the author of ‘ Onnalinda ’ is evidently enamored with his theme, even passionately 
so, we are not disposed to rally a poet on that account; we think whoever follows him and his 
heroine—the adroit but lovely nymph—through these forest paths, will pardon the poet’s im¬ 
passioned utterances .”—The Yorkshire Gazette. 








ONNALINDA. 


19 


“ Mistrust!—an ever-tattling brook 
That winds thro’ all Love’s heritage; 
Or headlines in a lover’s book 

Creeping along from page to page.” 


“The moonlight glimmering on the tent 
Made fretted meshes thro’ the trees— 
Flitting and flirting with the breeze 
In a fantastic tournament. 

The light and shade are Love and Doubt— 
They shift and shuffle in giddy bout.” 

“ O fickle If !—but half a breath 
Yet’t is of love the shibboleth ! ” 


“ No slanderer then with tongue of asp 
Darted his slime at each fair name; 
No gossip fouled with slimy grasp 
The roll of Virtue and of Fame.” 


“Can saintliest ‘nun, devout and pure’; 

All tenderness of love resist— 

Or turn away, with look demure, 

The sweetest lips that ever were kiss’d } 
The favoring clouds the moon eclipse— 
There is a touching at the lips.” 

“ As veil that falls o’er Beauty’s eyes 

Brightens their charms tho’ half concealed. 
The web she wove of words and sighs 
Charmed me the more thro’ mist revealed.” 


“ As rift of lightning thro’ the murk 
She pierced the waves athwart the night. 
And swift as shimmering swallow-flight 
She skimm’d beneath each pendent birk ; 
With flowing hair flung to the breeze. 

With parted lips and glowing eye . . . 

A form inspired !—’t would draw a sigh 
From Raphael or Praxiteles.” 

“ ‘ Who is she ? ’—as of old’t was said 
When mischief thro’ the kingdom sped.” 


“And homeward Onnalinda strayed 
Hesitant through the glinting dew.^ 

A vermeil tinge of deeper hue 
Upon her cheek her thoughts betrayed; 
And when she sank in sleep that bloom 
Crimsoned in dreams.of whom } ” 











“ Among my books I am sure to converse with 
none but wise men ; but abroad it is impossible 
for me to avoid the society of fools.” 

—Sir William Waller. 


ONNALINDA. 

From The Week, March 8, '88 {Prof. Goldwin Smith's Paper). 

About two hundred years ago the Marquis de Denonville was 
Governor of New France. France and England were competing for 
the supremacy of the continent. Between the English settlements 
in New York and Lake Ontario lay the enemy of the great Iroquois 
Confederacy. The warlike tribes were the bitter and implacable 
foes of the French, and they had many good reasons for their hatred. 
To chastise them, Denonville entered their country with a force 
unusually large for such an expedition in those days. He directed 
his attacks against the Senecas, one of the principal nations of the 
Confederacy, and the one that had been specially active in hostility 
to the French. He desolated the valley of the Genesee, where the 
Senecas had their homes, burning their villages, destroying their 
stores, and laying waste their corn-fields not yet ripened for the 
harvest. The ruin and desolation which this invasion caused is 
incidentally but graphically described in the poem :— 

“At noon they view a blooming vale 
Smiling before the hordes of France; 

At eve a scowling dark expanse— 

A blackened land of woe and wail. 

“War’s whirlwind, red with sword and fire. 

Had left but ashes in its path,— 

Hamlets and homes in fiery scath 
Swept flaming into ruin dire.” 

This invasion by Denonville two hundred years ago is the histor¬ 
ical ground-work out of which Mr. McNaughton has created a 
romance full of poetic beauty and human interest. The whole 


” . . . . The Iroquois Princess who foiled her enemies and attracted the admiration of Cap¬ 
tain Eben Stark, is a striking figure in history, and no poet could wish for a better theme ; nor 

has Mr. McNaughtoiii^rnissed his opportunities.The feeling of the whole is refined and 

sympathetic, the verse is musical and charming .”—Tke Nonconformist. 







ONNALINDA, 


21 


period of the French rigime in America, as Parkman’s prose epics 
so vividly show, abounds in heroic achievements, daring adventures 
and romantic incidents ; and it is a matter of surprise that novelists 
and poets have not more frequently sought in this treasury for 
themes for romance and song. Mr. McNaughton has happily recog¬ 
nized the elements of powerful and lasting interest in those conflicts 
between the pioneers of France and the native tribes, and has pro¬ 
duced, if not the ideal Indian romance, a romance of undoubted 
merit and thrilling interest, which does no more than justice to the 
nobler characteristics of a rapidly disappearing race. We do not 
know what authority, historical or legendary, he has for the Iro¬ 
quois princess whom his poem immortalizes; but we are certain 
the story which tells how Onnalinda thwarted the designs of the 
French Marquis, detached from his side the English captain and his 
gallant band, and averted from her home and people the terrible 
disasters that elsewhere befell her race, is not destined to speedily 
pass into oblivion. It has in it so many elements of interest as 
a story, and so much beauty as a poem, that it can scarcely fail to 
secure a lasting popularity and obtain a high place in literature. 

We do not intend to even outline the Story Mr. McNaughton has 
told with such power and felicity. So much of its charm depends 
on the author’s easy and graceful versification ; his graphic descrip¬ 
tion ; his subtle disclosures of character; his ingenious dialogues 
and telling situations, that any summary we could make would only 
do the poem injustice. We shall merely endeavor, by a few almost 
random extracts to indicate the style of the poem, and introduce 
some oi the principal characters that figure in it. The heroine her¬ 
self is described as— 

“ A winsome girl of native grace 
And moulded form the comeliest; 

Scarce two-and-twenty Junes had kissed 
With breath of rose her charming face— 

Brunette with crimson tinged and blent 
As if ’neath Saxon face there glowed 
The warm maroon of Indian blood. 

And stirred a doubt of her descent.” 

She was not indeed of pure Indian race; and perhaps one of the 
finest passages in the book is that in which she tells to her lover’s 


“ . . . . Since ‘ Lucile ’ it is the best story told in verse ; and ‘ Onnalinda ’ has this advan¬ 
tage, it is rife with incidents. In this respect it vies with the metrical romances of Scott. . . . 
As story-tellers, all three—Englishman, Scotsman and American—are admirable, and each has 
special aptitudes in which he is unsurpassed .”—London Topical Times. 



22 


ONNALINDA. 


ears the story of her mother, who was not “ forest born ” but came 
“ from o’er the sea:” \Here follows, at so7ne length, an extract from 
the poejn?^ 

From her mother, the daughter of a Scottish Earl, Onnalinda had 
learned much, so that she was by no means a mere untutored 
daughter of the forest. But one lesson came to her when she had 
no longer a mother to counsel and instruct. She learned to love, 
and, not knowing if she were loved in return, thus communed with 
herself— 

“ Last night—what did he mean to say? 

My hand in his he tremulous prest ; 

I heard a throbbing within his breast: 

‘ Good-bye,’ he faltered and turned away,— 

But in his voice and in his eye 

Was something more than that ‘Good-bye.’ 

“The white moon shone on his earnest face 
As he held my hand, and silent stood. 

Do men woo thus in a dolesome mood? 

Then a solemn owl may woo with grace! 

This man—can he be my father’s foe 
And lover of mine ? To-night I’ll know'.” 

Onnalinda's tryst with her English lover is graphically described , 
but the Indian maiden did not learn w'hat her heart longed to know'. 
A w'arning signal recalled Eben to his camp— 

“ And Eben’s heart beat wild and fast. 

Thrilled wdth the touch of her finger-tips 
That tingle-d still on his quivering lips. 

As through the crackling w'ood he passed. 

And vexed was he at a signal sent. 

Thwarting his passionate heart’s intent.” 

But Onnalinda lingered awhile “ within the starlit nook ” that had 
been their trysting-place, and gave voice to her disquietude in 
song— 

“ Why art thou calm, O peaceful night! 

While in my heart a wild unrest? 

And thou, O star, w'hy beam so bright. 

While dark my heart wdth doubt opprest? 

O star of night! 

I turn to thee; 

O calm, calm night. 

Bring calm to me !” 


“ We confess that, barring the point upon which we have animadverted we are 

charmed with the story of Onnalisda. . . . .The odours of the woodland lend an exhilarating 
freshness and vigour not found in the ordinary novel .”—Edinbtirgh Courant. ” 








ONNALINDA. 


23 


Eben Stark, the hero of the poem, is a strong, well-drawn charac¬ 
ter, but Ronald Kent, his friend and comrade, is, in some respects, 
it seems to us, still more interesting and picturesque. His sturdy 
good sense, his humour, his skill and courage, his loyalty and devo¬ 
tion to his friend, are admirably shown in the poem ; while the story 
of his own life, and his relations with Glinting Star, the Algonquin 
maiden, who so abruptly appears on the scene, add much to the 
interest of the narrative, and are important elements in the plot of 
the romance. Although Onnalinda and Eben Stark are the leading 
characters. Glinting Star and Ronald Kent play important rdles, and 
merit a large share of the applause. Glinting Star’s appearance on 
the scene is, as we have said, abrupt and startling. Apart altogether 
from the improbability of an Algonquin maid being, in time of war, 
in the country of the inveterate enemies of her race, the scene as 
depicted is not in harmony with what we know of the Indians and 
Indian modes of life; but it is spirited and dramatic, and will please 
a class of readers in spite of its unreality. This apparent unreality 
does not arise so much from any improbability in the scene as from 
the descriptive language which the author here and elsewhere 
throughout the book uses—language more fitting a romance of the 
Old World than one of the New World, more suited to a story of 
the fifteenth than to one of the seventeenth century. Let us quote 
a few lines: 

“ A charging steed 
Dashes amid the startled throng ! 

Reined by a maid of bearing high. 

With fearless hand and flashing eye. 

And Indian trappings round her flung. 

Her glinting plumelet bowed and swayed. 

While charger pranced in proud parade. 

“What grace of movement and of mien. 

As queen upon her throne of state 
She calmly on her palfrey sate 
And tranquil viewed the troubled scene. 

“ ‘ On yonder hill I lost my way ; 

I came from mighty tribe afar; 

My comrades few are knights of war: 

We roamed in joust and in foray 
To this sweet dale of Daffodil. 

. . . This morn from camp alone I rode. 

And heedless strayed through fragrant wood. 

And lost my way.’ ” 


“ . . . . The loves and adventures of the charming Princess Onnalinda and the chivalrous 
Captain’ Stark form the romance, the interest in which is maintained throughout.”— 
Manchester Courier. 



'M 


ONNALINDA. 


We could quote other passages, where the author uses the lan¬ 
guage of mediaeval chivalry to the obvious disadvantage of his- 
story; but we would prefer to give extracts, not to illustrate defects,, 
but to exemplify the many beauties of the poem. We have space 
for only one more—the prayer-song breathed by Onnalinda over 
her mother’s grave :— 

“Mother, O mother ! on thy breast 
Thy wearied child again would rest— 

Thy loving arms around me pressed. 

“ Mother, O mother! dark my way. 

When from thy grave I lonely stray; 

In tears I kneel by thee and pray. 

“ Mother, O mother! join to-night 
Thy prayer with mine for heavenly light, 

Oh, dark, so dark ! my path to-night.” 

We cannot more than mention some of the other more important 
figures in the story; Kawanute, the stately Iroquois Chief, brave, 
shrewd, and with a strong sense of humour by no means uncommon 
in the Indian character; Oonak, the Judas of the Indian race, whose 
murderous design on Onnalinda was frustrated by Ronald Kent’s 
unerring rifle; Osseolo, 

“The gallant youth whose manly form 
Ne’er trembled ’neath the battle storm— 

Whose dark eye dared the fiercest foe. 

Nor quailed before his bended bow,” 

but whose unhappy love for Onnalinda wrung from him signs of 
suffering that no physical tortures could have forced him to exhibit; 
Denonville’s courier, whose finery and foppery afford much amuse¬ 
ment ; and Donald, a facetious Scot, one of Captain Stark’s followers^ 
Though “ Onnalinda ” is a tale of war as well as of love, the reader 
is asked to witness no bloodshed except the death of Ooaak at the 
hands of Ronald Kent. The combat between these two is described 
with great spirit and animation. 


What was lately urged so strenuously by certain novelists—that ‘the stories have all been 
told’—has manifestly been ignored by the author of‘Onnalinda.’ We think that he has 
here given proof of the possession of that power which prompts him to view with compiacence 
the dictum of those novelists. . . . Even those who read mainly for the exhilaration, 
drawn from plot and incident, as well as those who search between the lines for purpose, will 
be gratified : it is a new and brilliant romance. Marked qualities in this author are his 
energy of style and his picturesque delineation. He draws a scene by a fewdtft touches, 

bringing clearly to the front those objects only which lend .significance.4 work 

which is destined, we venture to say, to take its place among the best poetic romanoei of the. 
time.— The Ohan Times. 









“ Of all knowledge and mental training, reading is the principal means, 
and reading aloud intelligently the unmistakable sign." 

—Richard Grant White. 

“ Reading aloud is in every way advantageous. Fortunately, it is being 
revived of late years, both at home and in associations.” 

—Charles F. Richardson. 


A UNIQUE FEATURE IN ROMANCE. 

Whoever delights in that useful as well as graceful ac¬ 
complishment, reading aloud, will treasure “ Onnalinda ” 
as unique among modern romances. Pictured in graphic 
verse, the rapidly-passing scenes and incidents arouse and 
sustain the attention alert. Following are extracts from re¬ 
ports of public readings: 

“. .. . ‘ Onnalinda’ is an epic poem of a high order of merit; captivating 
the attention from the first, and holding it to the end. It has animation, vigor, 
beauty, and a melodious use of words wedded to fine thought. The whole per¬ 
formance at the University w^as in every way excellent.” 

-Toronto Globe, Jan. 2S, 'SS. 

“... . The story of ONNALINDA is charmingly told. The plot is just enough 
involved to add piquancy and interest to the situations.... Those who heard 
the readings in the Convocation hall of the University will recall the singularly 
felicitous versification of this romance.”— The Empire, Feb. 4, '88. 

“.... It is an epic which is at once grand in conception, and full of those 
pathetic and dramatic incidents peculiar to forest romances. The reader im¬ 
personated the native simplicity and romantic incidents in the life of Onnalinda 
with such power of expression that the audience was entranced, the fascination 
of the story assisting greatly to that end.”— Toronto Mail, Dec. ji, '8'j. 

“In McNaughton’s ‘Onnalinda’ the reader at once secured the interested 
attention of a very intelligent audience, and kept it with increasing interest to 
the last line. It is a beautiful and touching story presented with delicate 
poetic art.”— Christian Guardian, Jan. 2j, '88. 

“.... In Mr. McNaughton’s ‘ Onnalinda,’ the reader had chosen a fit sub¬ 
ject: a poetic romance possessing power, delicacy, and great talent for delinea¬ 
tion.”— The New York Herald, May 4, '87. 


“ . . . . In McNaughton’s graceful and spirited poem the motive is above all suspicion ; and 
its pleading is as disinterested as it is pleasing and graceful.An ingenuous and charm¬ 

ing idyl.”— The Brighton Herald. 




26 


ONNALINDA. 


. It is an interesting tale, with many strong passages for the reader. It 
was heartily applauded .”—The New York Tribune, April ig, '87. 

“... .Through it all, like a thread of gold, runs an entrancing story of forest 
chivalry and love in colonial times .”—The New York Star, April2, '87. 

“... . As a piece of word-painting ‘ Onnalinda ’ has few equals in the En¬ 
glish language .”—The Utica Press, Aug-, jo, ’87. 

“... . The conception of ‘ Onnalinda ’ is original, and the interest aroused at 
the beginning grows with the progress of the poem. The character of the whole 
entertainment was brilliant, refined and elevating .”—Utica Herald, Aug. jo, '87, 

“The new poetic romance ‘Onnalinda’ was read before a fashionable 
audience at the Richfield summer theatre to-night .... The loves and adven¬ 
tures of the romantic Princess 0 »nalinda, and the stirring incidents in her 
career, are well fitted to arouse emotional excitement.” 

— United Press Despatch, Aug. 2g, '87. 

“.. .. The first public reading in this city of McNaughton’s famous work. 
‘ Onnalinda,’ will long linger in the memories of those who heard it.” 

—Rochester Democrat and Chronicle, June 2g, '87, 

“.... Last evening a distinguished audience greeted the reader, and was 
held spell-bound by the dramatic and finished reading from the picturesque 
poetic romance, ‘ Onnalinda.’ ”—The Daily Saratogian, Sept, i, *87. 

“.... The reading of ‘ Onnalinda ’ was a genuine surprise—a unique enter¬ 
tainment. .. .It is a story with more lights than shadow's in it; a succession of 
idyllic scenes and adventures, full of sunshine and inspiration.” 

—Newport Observer, Sept. 24, '88. 

“-A delightful entertainment was given at the Casino (New'port) last 

evening, consisting of a reading from McNaughton’s poetic romance ‘ Onna¬ 
linda.’. .. . A more refined and enjoyable entertainment has not been given at 
Newport this season .”—Boston Herald, Sept. 18, '88. 

“ . . . . It is a tale of the forest, of chivalry, of mirthful, happy love-making. 
.... The ballad of the Burning Ship, of which Eben Stark is the hero, is well 
adapted for public recitation .”—The Westminster Review, No. CXXXI. 

“ ‘ Onnalinda ’ is a metrical romance of great beauty. ... A peri*al of the stirring verse of 
‘Onnalinda’ may awaken something more than sympathy, even as Mrs. Beecher Stowe’s 
famous story led up to freedom .”—The Court Journal, No. 2916. 

“ . . . . The author of ‘ Onnalinda’ has proved that the American muse can sing with 
sweetness and with spirit, with feeling and with humour. Space forbids the quotation of pas- 
pges which would testify of felicitous expression, picturesque description, animated scenes, 
impressive action .”—Illustrated London News. 






“ Blessings be with them—and eternal praise. 

Who gave us nobler loves and nobler cares— 

The Poets, who on earth have made us heirs 
Of truth and pure delight by heavenly lays !” 

— ordsworth . 

J. H. McNAUGHTON. 

A SKETCH OF HIS LIFE AND WORKS. 

ATagazine of Poetry, April, i88g. 

John Hugh McNaughton is of Scottish parentage. His father 
and mother came from Perthshire, and settled in Caledonia, New 
York ; and there the subject of this sketch was born July i, 1829, 
and has since resided. His home, mid-way between Caledonia and 
Avon, in the beautiful Genesee Valley, secluded among the maples 
and evergreens, is indicative of the poet’s retiracy; and from that 
charming retreat, with his family and occasional literary visitors, 
he looks out on the busy world serenely and contentedly. 

“ ’T is pleasant, thro’ the loopholes of retreat, 

To peep at such a world ; to see the stir 
Of the great Babel, and not feel the shock.” 

Mr. McNaughton’s first work was a scientific treatise on music— 
a subject to which he had devoted much attention, contributing pa¬ 
pers to Foreign and American journals, on harmony, rhythm, and 
kindred subjects. These were germane to the song-writer’s art 
into which he soon entered. Mr. Sheppard, the veteran music-pub¬ 
lisher, used to relate an incident that doubtless led the young 
theorist into song-writing: 

“ One morning,” says Mr. Sheppard, I was sitting in the back 
part of my store, wondering at the sudden influx of music-buyers 
calling for a certain song sung at a concert the previous evening. I 
noticed a stranger, quite a tall, slim young man, pacing back and 
forth with folded arms, between the files of music-buyers and casting 
furtive glances at the busy clerks. Presently he walked up to me^ 
his steel-blue eyes glittering, and said: 

“ ‘Will the proprietor tell me what he pays for the MS. of such a 
song as that those people are buying ? ’ 

“ ‘ A good deal,’ said I, ‘ for a song that will make an audience cry 


28 


JOHN HUGH MCNAUGHTON. 


as that did; but let me tell you, young man, not one song-writer in 
a hundred makes such a hit/ 

“ ‘ Ah, indeed ? ’—that was all he said, and passed out of the store. 
A few days after I received a MS. song, the handwriting of which 1 
recognized, and with it this laconic note :—‘ That other song of 
mine \gave yow. If you want this one, the price is marked in the 
corner. Yours, etc., J. H. McNaughton.’ 

“The price," (continued Mr. Sheppard), “was outrageous, but I 
paid it, and never regretted it.” 

Mr. McNaughton’s first volume of Poems, “Babble Brook 
Songs,” was issued in 1864. In it are included the poems which 
drew from Mr. Longfellow that remarkable letter printed in “ Final 
Memorials of H. W. Longfellow,” and begining, “ Your poems have 
touched me very much. Tears fell down my cheeks as I read them." 

Many of Mr. McNaughton’s songs in sheet music form have won 
a phenomenal success. Of “ Faded Coat of Blue,” “ Belle Mahone,” 
“Jamie True,” “As We Went a-Haying,” and “Love at Home,” an 
aggregate of 450,000 copies has been published. He has also writ¬ 
ten a set of twelve songs with music by V. Gabriel, issued s’multa- 
neously in London and New York. 

Mr. McNaughton has contributed to the leading Reviews articles 
on various subjects. One of these papers, “The Red Man,” in The 
Nineteenth Century, for May, 1885, occasioned much comment. Of 
its effect Mr. Labouchere, Member of Parliament, wrote thus broadly 
{\n Loiuion 7 >z/r//z, May 14, 1885), “ I am glad to find everybody is 
reading or talking about Mr. McNaughton’s article in The Nine¬ 
teenth Century on the ‘ Red Man.’ ” 

Mr. McNaughton’s chief work, by which he will doubtless be best 
known, is his poetic romance “ Onnalinda ” which has already won 
recognition in the highest literary circles, and of which an illus¬ 
trated American edition has been lately issued. 


[Fac-simile of letter from the Rt. Hon. John Bright.] 


ONE ASH, 

ROCHDALE 




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C/i. ^ ^/U<^ 

Ahiaj^ At. a 


U^Ct.Uj 9^ tKJL^ 

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\ ^ 


icA ^/i 

/u.«- ^ 

U,ui U^ 

2^A/i.L. . Aa<^ U<f 

/At. ^ /ut., /ca.* 

A'txji /i/Lt» 


44<u. *'i^€t^U. »/ *> 

*-J Hx 4L »/■ 

Aw ^ 

4 /vx^ 4^ ^ 

^ - ;5i. >e£:^ -c4 

^ 

^ /. 4 ^ ^ 

4 ^. 4 * A^./icn^ * ^/t./^ 



k LcckJ’ A^^vJi 


Av/2 C,^ 

/ J i'- ^ 

ii ^ ^ ^ Ac/fc, 4Z>w 

^ 4^>4c4: Uku^Au% 7^ ^Ae^tAL) . 


ALiCi/j- ftt^ A<lu.a^ a 

J^.J, /If-. 




[Fac-siraile of letter from the Earl of Lytton (Owen Meredith).] 

















ONNALINDA. 


PATRONS OF THE GUINEA EDITION. 



Earl of Roseberry. 

Sir William V. Harcourt. 
Sir Henry James. 

Earl of Derby. 

The Duke of Argyll. 

H. R. H. Princess Louise. 
Lord Tennyson. 




ONNALINDA. 

PATRONS OF THE GUINEA EDITION. 


(AUTOGRAPHS IN FAC-SIMILE.) 




Hon. T* R. Lowell. 

Lord Houghton. 

Earl Dufferin. 

Earl Granville. 

Marquis of Hartington. 
Lord Kimberly. 

Duke of Norfolk. 



ONNALINDA. 

•PATRONS OF THE EDITION DE LUXE. 

(autographs IN.FAC-SIMILE,) 



Mrs. John J. Astor. 

Mrs. James C. Ayer. 

Mrs. Paran Stevens. 

Mrs. D. O. Mills. 

Mrs. Bryce Gray. 

Mrs. C. R. Agnew. 

Mrs. Russell Sage. 

Mrs. R. L. Stuart. 

Mrs. H. Nictor Newcomb. 




ONNALINDA. 

PATRONS OF THE EDITION DE LUXE. 

(autographs in fac-simile.) 




X 


Mrs. Frances F. Cleveland. 
Mrs. VanRensselaer Cruger. 
Mrs. Paul Dahlgren. 

Mrs. Pierre Lorillard. 

Mrs. M. E. W. Sherwood. 
Mrs. Edward Delafield. 
Mrs. Wm. B. Dinsmore. 

Mrs. Hicks Lord. 



38 


ONNALINDA. 


“ A pleasant book—what a delightful comrade !—so quiet, 
so thoughtful ; answering all our impertinent questions but 
asking none !—Lord Karnes, 

, The writers themselves are hid, inaccessible, 
solitary' ; but the thought which they do not uncover to their 
bosom friend is written out in transparent words to us. 

—Ralph Waldo Emerson. 


ONNALINDA. 

Extract from the N. Y. Com. Advertiser's (Aug. ji, ’Sj) London Letter. 

“ . . . . Talking of books and Americans, I have before me a book 
which is making a sensation in this country. It is Onnalinda, a 
romance, by J. H. McNaughton, who, I believe, is a native of New 
York. Most astonishing stories are told of this work. One is, that 
upward of four thousand subscribers have already been obtained for 
it in England alone. The London press, up to the present, seem 
unanimous in its praise. John Bright has written a long letter about 
it. I shall dip into the book in time for my next letter. Here, in 
the meantime, are extracts from the letter of Mr. Bright; [The let¬ 
ter is given in full elsewhere—see p. 29.] It would almost appear as 
if the “ Onnalinda ” of J, H. McNaughton were to become in its way 
a kind of “ Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” as far as a bona fide mission is con¬ 
cerned ; for it cannot, I expect, be so popular as Mrs. Stowe’s book, 
seeing the price it is sold at—a guinea a volume. So far as I am now 
able to judge, the poem is Byronic in form, with Byron’s swing and 
and fire, and a point and piquancy all its own.” 


“... .Following the adventures of the Princess Onnalinda, we are quickened 
by a healthful exhilaration—we breathe the fresh air from the breezy heights and 
balmy glens of this forest romance.”— Glasgow Herald. 

“... .The romance of ‘ Onnalinda’ will entitle Mr. McNaughton to a good 
place among modern poets. It is well conceived and beautifully executed. 
There is a naturalness and ease which run through it and make it interesting 
and attractive.”— Stirling Journal. 

“... .In this forest idyl the poet-romancer himself seems captivated by the 
charms of his ideal heroine, the Princess Onnalinda—‘ her dark eyes’ lustrous 
glance,’and ‘ the opulent curve of her crimson lips’... .Though the glades 
beyond us echo with the fierce feud of rivals, we involuntarily follow the for¬ 
tunes of the lovely nymph through ‘ woodland paths and scented dales.’ ” 

— The Bury Guardian. 

“... .Campbell and Longfellow are the only poets thus far who have touched 
the subject worthily. We are glad to welcome a new poet in this romantic- 
field, introducing to us the charming Onnalinda, one of the most engaging per¬ 
sons of that interesting era. . . .The lorgnettes of literary circles no doubt will 
soon be turned towards this fascinating Princess.”— The Scotsman. 



The O LD Songs 

AND 

The New. 


. . . The song from beginning to end 

I found again in the heart of a friend.” 

—H. W. Longfellow. 


[These copyright songs are here inserted by special per¬ 
mission of Messrs. Pond & Co., New York, and Messrs. 
Ditson & Co.. Boston, proprietors of the copyrights.] 








BLOW! BLOW! THOU WINTRY 
BLAST. 


“ Blow ! blow, thou winter wind.” 

— Shakspeare. 

Blow ! blow, thou wintry blast! 

She heeds thee not, safe under the snow ; 

Deaf to the howling world at last 
Under the snow—low, low. 

The world she met, and the world it frowned ; 
And she trembling hid in the icy ground. 

Pale, pale she grew ’neath frown and woe 
And in fear she hid ’neath the drifting snow. 

II. 

Frown ! frown, thou cruel fate ! 

Sweet dreams are hers a-dreaming below. 

Smite her, canst thou, with frown and hate 
Under the snow ? No ! No ! 

She feels no more of thy hate or love. 

As cold and white as the drift above ! 

Come not. O world ! with tears to drown 
This flower that withered beneath thy frown. 
Blow ! blow, thou wintry blast ! 

She heeds thee not, safe under the snow; 
Deaf to the howling world at last 
Under the snow—low, low. 


LOVE AT HOME. 

There is beauty all around 
When there’s love at home ; 
There is joy in every sound 
When there’s love at home ! 

Peace and plenty here abide 
Smiling sweet on every side— 

Time doth softly, sweetly glide 
When there’s love at home. 

Kindly heaven smiles above 
When there’s love at home ; 

All the earth is filled with love 
When there’s love at home ! 
Sweeter sings the brooklet by. 
Brighter beams the azure sky— 

Oh ! there’s One who smiles on high 
When there’s love at home. 


42 


THE OLD SONGS 


THE DOOR AJAR. 

The summers come—the summers go— 
They fly unheeded past my door ; 

One star in heaven is all I know— 

On it I gaze forevermore ! 

The sun may gild the clouds with gold, 
Beyond them still I gaze afar 
To one who flew to Heaven’s fold, 

And left for me the door ajar. 

I heed no more the blossoms fall 
Nor listen when the robins sing,— 

I only hear a sweet voice call: 

‘ ‘ Come upward to the Endless Spring ! ” 
I wander o’er the meadows green 
But only see the Blue Afar, 

Where my sweet own hath entered in 
And left for me the door ajar. 


BELLE MAHONE. 

Soon beyond the harbor bar 
Shall my bark be sailing far,— 
O’er the world I wander lone. 
Sweet Belle Mahone. 

O’er thy grave I weep good-bye, 
Hear, oh hear my lonely cry, 

O without thee what am I, 

Sweet Belle Mahone ? 

Chorus. 

Sweet Belle Mahone ! 

Sweet Belle Mahone ! 

Wait for me at Heaven’s gate, 
Sweet Belle Mahone ! 

Lonely like a withered tree. 
What is all the world to me ? 
Life and light were all in thee, 
Sweet Belle Mahone. 
Daisies pale are growing o’er 
All my heart can e’er adore. 
Shall I meet thee nevermore. 
Sweet Belle Mahone ? 

Calmly, sweetly slumber on, 
(Only one I call my own !) 
While in tears I wander lone. 
Sweet Belle Mahone. 

Faded now seems ev’ry thing. 
But when comes eternal spring. 
With thee I’ll be wandering, 
Sweet Belle Mahone ! 


ANB THE NEW. 


43 


ONNALINDA’S SONG. 


I. 

Calm as the night 
Was heart of mine, 
Lulled in the light 
Of day’s decline. 
No breezes stirred 
The folded wing 
Of dreaming bird 
Soft slumbering, 
Like heart of mine— 
O heart of mine ! 


11 . 

Love came and broke 
The slumber deep— 
The bird awoke 
From happy sleep, 
Ruffled its wing 
In wild unrest— 

A cruel sting 

Was in its breast. 
Like heart of mine— 
O heart of mine ! 


WITHOUT THE CHILDREN. 


“ Ah ! what would the world be to us 
If the children were no more ? 

We should dread the desert behind us 
Worse than the dark before.” 

— Longfellow, 

I. 

O the weary solemn silence 

Of a house without the children— 

O the strange, oppressive stillness 
Where the children come no more ! 

Ah ! the longing of the sleepless 
For the soft arms of the children— 

Ah ! the longing for the faces 

Peeping thro’ the opening door— 

Faces gone forevermore ! 

II. 

Strange, so strange to wake at midnight 
And not hear the children breathing— 

Only the weary clock a-ticking, 

Ticking, ticking by the door- 

Strange to see the little dresses 
Hanging there thro’ all the morning, 

And the slippers—ah ! their patter 
We shall hear it nevermore 
On our mirth-forsaken floor ! 

III. 

What is home without the children ? 

’T is the earth without its verdure. 

And the sky without the sunshine... 

Life is withered to the core. 

So we’ll leave this dreary desert. 

And we’ll follow the Good Shepherd 
To the green pastures vernal 

Where the lambs have gone before— 

With the Shepherd evermore ' 


44 


THE OLD SONGS 


THE GRANGER MAIDEN. 

“‘Cusha! cusha! cusha ! ’ calling, 

Far away 1 heard her song.” 

—Jean IngeloTa. 

The meadow bar was down, 

The kine they were far away ; 

Calling so low—tender and low— 

Sweetly I heard her say : 

“ Co’ boss ! Co’ boss ! Co’... .boss ! ” 
Then up from the meadow the kine they gaze 
As softer, and lower, and sweeter she says : 
“Co’boss'I Co’boss ! 

Co’.boss ! ” 

“I’ll call the kine,’’ said I, 

But she only smiled so coy ; 

Gayly I call—merrily call— 

Just like a hearty boy : 

“Co’boss! Co’boss ! Co’... .boss !’’ 

But never a look would the kine give me 
Till softer, and gentler, and sweeter sang she : 
“ Co’ boss ; Co’ boss I 
Co’.boss ! 

That lovely morn of June 

Has flown, yet in dreams I hear 
Calling so low—tender and low— 

Calling as thro’ a tear : 

“Co’boss! Co’boss ! Co’... .boss !’’ 
Then visions of youth, so bright, so dear, 
Comeback from that June, as that song I hear ; 
“Co’ boss ! Co’ boss ! 

Co’.boss !’’ 


WHEN THE PALE MOON. 

When the pale, pale moon arose last night 
Its cold light fell on my silent floor. 

And I thought of a face so pure and white. 

That vanished in years that will come no more. 

O pale, sweet face—sweet face ! I said. 

Come, sit by the window still as of yore ; 

O pale, sweet face, so dear—and dead !— 

Come, look from the moon on my silent floor. 

And a voice I heard—Oh sweet and dear !— 

That hushed the stir of the rustling bough : 

From my window in heaven I lean, I hear. 

The moonlight I see on thy pale, pale brow.' 

O pale, sweet face—sweet face I I said. 

Come sit by the window evermore ! 

Look down, dear eyes, so long, long fled. 

Come look from the moon on my silent floor— 
Silent, silent forevermore ! 





ANI? THE NEW. 


45 




AS WE WENT A-HAYING. 

GEORDIE AND I. 

I. 

The robins sung their sweetest song 
As I went tripping the fields among, 

And all things over the world smiled cheerily 
’Tween the shine and gloaming. 

Said I to Geordie raking hay : 

“ Why look so sad, so sad to-day ? ” 

Said he : “ There’s something I would say 
If you’ll go with me roaming ! ” 

The robins sung their sweetest song 
As we went tripping the fields among, 
And all things over the world smiled cheerily 
’Tween the shine and gloaming. 

II. 

Says Geordie : * ‘ Every bird you spy 
Sings ‘ sweetheart ’ gaily, but none have I, 
And all things merrily sing so cherrily 
While I am lonely haying ! ” 

Says I . “ / ’ll turn the hay with you.” 

Says he : “ And be my ‘ sweetheart ’ too ?” 
My answer I’ll not tell you. 

But forth we went a-haying ! 

The robins sing their sweetest song 
As we go tripping the fields among. 
And we join merrily, singing cheerily 
As we go a-haying ! 


“MY BOY!”—A SOLDIER’S MOTHER. 

I’m weary of gazing into the dark— 

O the dreary night! O the silent street I 
I start when I hear the watch-dog bark. 

And I trembling hark for the sound of feet. 

My boy!—will he come to-night to me ? 

I strain my eyes in the dark to see,— 

Through the night so dreary, dreary ! 

Gazing south, thro’ the mist, till my eyes grow dim, 
I sit by the window awaiting for him .... 

O the night so weary, weary ! 

Does he dream, as he lies by his camp-fire low. 
How I watch and wait for my boy to come? 
When he paces his lonely ronnds in the snow 
Does he long for the blazing hearth at home ? 

O what if he’s sentry this night so bleak. 

And the chill wind freezing the tear on his cheek 
Through the drifting night so dreary, dreary! 

—Gazing south, in the dark, till her eyes grow dim 
.She sits by the window awaiting for him, 

Through the night .so weary, weary! 


WILLIAM A. POND & CO., 

PUBLISHERS AND IMPORTERS 


AMERICAN AND FOREIGN MUSIC. 


Sole Agents in the United States for Messrs. Boosey & Co., Lon¬ 
don, and Messrs. Schuberth & Co., Leipsic. 


V. GABRIEL’S SONGS. 


Under the Palms. Key of D. (C sharp to F.)..$0.40 

Be Thou Near Me. Key of A flat. (D to A flat.). 40 

When The Pale Moon. B flat, minor. (B flat to E.). 40 

You’ll Not Be Long Away. Key of C. (C to E.). 35 

Under the Snow. C minor. (B to E flat.). 50 

Coming Bye-and-Bye. Key of A. (C sharp to F.). 40 

Captive Poet. E. flat, (D to G flat.). 50 

There’s but one Sweet Song. D. (D to G.). 50 

Eileen. Key of D.. (D to F sharp.). 50 

White Dove. Key of E. (A to F sharp.). 40 

Door Ajar. Key of B flat.' (D to G.). 40 


The above copyright songs, issued simultaneously in London and New York, 
are the joint work of the American lyric poet J. H. McNaughton and the 
English composer V. Gabriel. 


“V. Gabriel’s special gift con.sists in a genuine and unaffected feeling for the picturesque. 
Everything from the pen of this composer shows a spontaneity of ideas.”—London Saturday 
Revieiu. 

” Few songs are as good as those in which V. Gabriel and J. H. McNaughton have joint 
authorship. Few write poetry more perfectly adapted to music than he.”— Springfield{M2iss.) 
Republican. 


By arrangements with the Reprint Company we furnish copies of 

“ONNALINDA” 

at publishers’ prices, viz. :— 

Household Edition, Illustrated. 230 pages, 7^x10. Plate paper. Maroon 
cloth— $3.00. 

Illustrated Holiday Edition, in White and Gold. Large Plate paper. 
A Superb Gift, in a Box— $4.00. 


Any of the above publications mailed postpaid on receipt of price, 

WILLIAM A. POND & CO., 

25 Union Square, New York. 



















“ Culture is to know the best that has been thought and said 
in the world ; and it implies that a system directly tending to 
that end is necessary in our reading. —Matthew Arnold. 


Announcement. 


ONNALINDA, 

PUBLISHED BY KEGAN PaUL, TRENCH & CO., PATERNOSTER SQUARE, LONDON. 

Caledonia, New York: The Reprint Company. 

A New Edition of “ Onnalinda ” is now issued at a populai' 
price. It is printedfrom the same plates and with the same illustrations 
as the edition de luxe, and, excepting a less margin of page, it rivals that 
costly edition. The work has 2pages, faultlessly printed from the De 
Vinne plates. 

Confident that every person of culture, whether in mansion or cottage 
will desire to own a copy of this most charming story of the time, tJ^e 
Publishers have made a special effort to make this edition as admirable 
as the moderate price will permit. 

This superb book is 7iot only for the delight of a Holiday season — 

“ A thing of beauty is a joy forever,” 

and the story of Onnalinda, we vettture to say, will be of abiding in- 
terest and delight. 

” ‘ Onnalinda’ is magnificently provided for ; everything is here to 
insure warm recognition of high merit: beautiful binding, lovely en¬ 
gravings, and elegant printing.— Toronto Globe. 


Household Edition, Illustrated. 230 pp. 71^x10. Plate paper, maroon 
cloth— $3.00. 

Illustrated Holiday Edition, in White and Gold. Large plate paper. A 
Superb Gift, in a Box (sold by subscription)— $4.00. 

Handy-Volume Edition, 250 pp. 4^x7, without illustrations, cloth— $1.25* 

To atty place where the book is not obtainable through assents, it 
will be mailed, protected in strong caver and postpaid, on receipt of the 

THE REPRINT COMPANY. 

Caledonia, New York. 





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